A King Should Never Sit Easy
by The Cappadocian
Summary: JonCon teaches Aegon some valuable lessons about being a king and staying out of harm's way. Warning: contains corporal punishment.


The dwarf's words stuck in Young Griff's head. _Trust no one. Go west instead of east. Men will flock to your cause._ For as long as he could remember, he had been raised to be a king. Jon Connington had raised him as his own, Septa Lemore had taught him, Duck had trained him to fight, but it had never before occurred to him that they might not be giving him good counsel. He had no reason not to trust them, but the dwarf's words rung true with him.

It had all seemed so simple when Jon had explained it. Sail to slaver's bay, reveal himself as Aegon VI Targaryen, rightful king of the Andals and the First Men, marry his aunt Daenerys, and reclaim Westeros with the help of her army and dragons. Hugor had made it all look like a flight of fancy. _No, not Hugor, Tyrion Lannister._ He had to remember that the dwarf was just as crafty as he appeared, and was the son of the man who had butchered his mother and sister. Still, the doubts he had planted could not be removed. _Why should she listen to my requests? Why would she yield the regency to me? She has the army and the dragons._ Tyrion had put it best, "She is Aegon the Conqueror with teats." _But then what am I?_

Young Griff leaned over the side of the _Shy Maid_ to look at his reflection in the murky waters of the Rhoyne. His hair was died blue in the Tyroshi fashion to hide his true silver Targaryen hair. It also served to mask the light purple eyes that also showed his Valyrian blood. _I am the blood of the dragon, but will I ever be worthy of my namesake?_ Aegon the Conqueror had united the kingdoms of Westeros under fear of his dragons, but now that Young Griff was truly faced with the prospect of taking back his birthright, he felt sick to his stomach. It was a handsome face that stared back at him from the water, but was it a kingly one? The purple eyes that showed his royal blood sported long eyelashes that the dwarf had said made him pretty as a girl. Was this the face of a conqueror?

Duck had trained Aegon in combat with many weapons, and Young Griff knew he was beginning to show great skill with a sword, but when he'd been faced with the need to use it in earnest, all his courage had deserted him. When they had passed under the Bridge of Dream, and Jon had ordered him below deck, he had refused, insisting that he could use a sword as well as any of them. But when the stone men dropped down onto the ship, he had frozen, forgetting even to draw his sword, and it was the dwarf of all people who stepped in to save him. What good was all his skill if when death stared him in the face, he showed less courage than a dwarf?

 _Jon was right. I'm still half a boy._ Aegon had eighteen years now, but he still felt no closer to becoming the man he was supposed to be. And now for the first time he found himself questioning his most trusted friends. The people who had raised him in exile to one day reclaim his throne, even the closest thing he'd ever had to a father, did they truly know what was best?

As if on command, Young Griff turned his head to see that man walking towards him. Tall and broad-shouldered, Jon Connington was every inch a warrior. His face was clean-shaven, but marred by several battle-scars that added to his fearsome appearance. There was no doubt that Jon was a dangerous and deadly man, but he had never shown anything but love for Aegon. It seemed all that man's ferocity was devoted to placing him on the Iron Throne. _This is the man who raised and protected me, but my claim to the throne comes from my true father who I never knew._ Prince Rhaegar had died on the Trident when Aegon was still a babe in arms. It was Jon who had saved him from a similar fate, and protected him ever since.

"Where in seven hells has that dwarf slipped off to?" Jon muttered angrily, looking out into the night at the town of Selhorys. They had been docked there since morning, and Young Griff was sick of being stuck onboard the _Shy Maid_.

"We could go searching too." Young Griff wanted any excuse to get off this boat. It was just him, Jon, and Septa Lemore onboard now; all the others were out searching for the dwarf and the halfmaester.

Jon looked at him pointedly. "We've been through this. We can't risk you. Besides, would you leave the Septa alone on board? You're not the only one who should be afraid of being recognized." Aegon flushed. He was sick of being told he needed to be protected.

"How can I ever be a king if you treat me like I'm still a boy? I'm a man grown, half a knight, and the blood of the dragon. I can defend myself."

"The graves of the world are full of brave young men," Jon countered coldly. "The strongest and bravest of men have been felled by an arrow from afar, a knife in the back, a cut that festers, a drop of poison in the wine. I can't let that happen to you. I swore an oath to your father." Aegon felt Jon's hand on his shoulder, turning him to look him in the eyes. "You're too important. Maybe you've learned how to swing a sword, but I saw you freeze when the stone men came for you. If you hesitate and we're not there to protect you, it will mean your life."

Aegon felt a surge of anger with his wounded pride. He knew Jon was right, but it hurt to be reminded of that moment. "How am I supposed to learn to fight if you never give me a chance? How will I ever be a strong king if I cower behind you all the time?"

Jon Connington's look was long and sad. "There's much more to being a king than being a strong fighter. You must be wise enough to keep yourself out of harm's way. Your father was a valiant warrior, yes, but he kept his kingsguard close. Perhaps not close enough. If it had been Ser Arthur Dayne and the White Bull who had met the Usurper on the Trident instead of your father, he might be sitting the Iron Throne today." Aegon could see Jon's eyes glistening in the moonlight. This happened every time he spoke of Rhaegar. Jon cleared his throat and continued. "A king is not a knight. A king has knights to fight and die for him so that he need not. You must learn to accept that."

Despite the wisdom of these words, Aegon did not want to hear them. "But Aegon the Conqueror…"

"Your namesake had a dragon the size of a castle to do his fighting for him. You don't. Not yet at least."

 _Daenerys_. Aegon was still afraid to challenge Jon about this plan. He wasn't used to making his own decisions, and was afraid to start now. _What kind of king will I be if I can't command my most loyal followers?_

"I won't go to Slaver's Bay. I refuse to come to my aunt a beggar." Jon was taken aback by Aegon's words.

"What madness is this? She is your last living kin, and she commands an army of Unsullied, not to mention three dragons. You would be a fool not to turn to her as an ally."

"No." Aegon drew himself up. He and Jon were almost of a height by now. "I would be a fool to cross half the world to beg her to help take the throne she clearly desires for herself." Aegon smiled to see that Jon was at a loss for words.

"Then what do you mean to do?" He finally managed.

"The Golden Company awaits us in Volantis. The Seven Kingdoms war against one another, and a boy sits the Iron Throne. I mean to land in Westeros. When Daenerys hears that the last of her kin is fighting a desperate war to reclaim his birthright, she will have no choice but to join me."

Jon Connington turned and paced a slow circle before finally coming back to face Aegon with a solemn nod. "Perhaps you've got the right of it, but there's one thing you'll need to promise me."

Aegon's heart quickened. Jon Connington sometimes spoke like his advisor, or his sworn sword, but other times, like now, he spoke like he was his father. His voice catching in his throat, Aegon replied. "And what's that?" Jon stepped forward and placed a hand on Aegon's shoulder.

"You need to listen to me. For your own safety. You've never set foot in Westeros, you've never ridden with the Golden Company, and you've never been to war. I didn't keep you alive all this time to see you throw your life away now. When I tell you to do something, it's to keep you alive, and I need you to do it for me."

Feeling the warmth radiate from Jon's touch in the cold night air, Aegon gave a small nod. Part of him was indignant, even outraged that anyone would presume to command the blood of the dragon, but looking at this man who had raised him for as long as he could remember, the better part of him wanted to embrace him with relief. He had never asked to be King Aegon VI. Sometimes he wished he could just stay Young Griff. He had never asked to give people commands, he had never wanted anyone to die for him. More than ever, he felt like he had no idea what he was doing.

But the seriousness of Jon's expression told Aegon that he was not finished. "Now tell me, do you remember what I said to you before we started the journey down the Rhoyne?" Aegon's heart sank. He knew where this was going. "What I said would happen if you disobeyed me?"

Suddenly the night was even colder. Aegon shivered slightly before nodding again. "Yes, I remember." He hardly spoke with the voice of a dragon now. He bit his tongue to stave off the pleas. _I am a man grown now._

The aging knight did not let up his severe gaze. "At the Bridge of Dream, I told you to go belowdeck before the stone men came. But you stayed, and one of them almost touched you. You disobeyed me and almost got yourself turned into one of those things. Do you understand why you can't do things like that?"

Tears formed in Aegon's eyes as he tried to calm the storm that brewed inside of him. Finally he cried out. "What if I didn't want to let them take one of you and say I didn't fight them myself? What if I don't want to see you die for me either?" Jon was silent for a long moment, and Aegon saw that he was beginning to tear up as well.

"I know you didn't ask for this," he began slowly. "A king cannot love. A king is forever alone because he must hold absolute power over an army of scheming, ambitious knights and nobles. It is a terrible sacrifice, but it is the duty of a king. The boy who sits the Iron Throne has been taught that kingship is his right, but you know that it is a solemn duty to your people. And this is why you will be a great king."

Aegon's heart swelled at those last words, and he could not contain his smile in spite of himself. But that smile quickly disappeared when he saw Jon's expression.

"So you do understand. Are you ready?"

Aegon wanted to cry. He looked down at the deck and gave the faintest of nods. Without a word, Jon turned and began walking away. Still looking down, Aegon followed him into the cabin that they shared. Jon lit a few candles before closing the door behind them. Standing there in silence, Aegon watched helplessly as Jon undid his sword belt and bared the steel, carefully setting his sword down on the desk. He picked up the switch that was lying on the desk. Aegon had seen him cut the switch that morning on the riverbank before they'd reached Selhorys. He hadn't said anything, but he had known what it meant.

Watching Jon walk across the cabin with switch and scabbard in hand, Aegon felt the familiar queasiness return. He had dealt with the older knight's harsh beatings for years now, but it never got any easier. And it had been some time since his last one. Jon was careful to make sure that their discipline sections were a strictly private matter, and with so many people aboard such a small ship, it was all but impossible. But now everyone was out searching for the dwarf, with the exception of Septa Lemore, and Jon kept almost as close as he kept Aegon himself. There were no secrets from her.

Resigned, Aegon removed his own sword belt and began taking off his shoes. He stood before Jon Connington hesitantly, but all it took was a slight nod from the older knight and Aegon began unlacing his breeches. As they fell down to his bare feet, he stood before Jon shivering in his smallclothes. But his unspoken request was denied as Jon cast a pointed look down at them. Aegon wanted to refuse. _I'm the king. I shouldn't have to._ But he couldn't. He was the exiled king of somewhere far away, and in this cabin, Jon was the one in charge. With trembling fingers, Aegon sent his smallclothes down to join the pool of cloth around his ankles. Aegon stepped out of them.

Jon's eyes lingered downward for a second before snapping back up to meet Aegon's. Aegon shifted, uncomfortable at the hunger that he had seen in the man's gaze. Jon set the switch on the bed before finally speaking.

"You know how this goes. Turn around and bend over." Aegon shivered as he bent down and he felt the cold night air creep between his cheeks. As he spread his legs and grabbed his ankles, Aegon's loose shirt fell to his midsection, exposing more of his body to the cold. He drew in his breath as he felt the leather of the scabbard tap against his bare bottom. Aegon closed his eyes as he awaited the first stroke. When it came, Aegon squinted his eyes and dug his fingernails into his ankles.

 _I won't cry out. I am a man grown. I am the blood of the dragon._ The scabbard was made of wood wrapped in leather, and each stroke burned urgently. Aegon knew that his buttocks were already starting to redden. Jon laid down the strokes at an even, steady pace, giving the sting time to dissipate before the next stroke landed. Aegon stayed firmly in position with a death grip on his ankles. If he was going to be spanked like a boy, he could at least try to take it like a man.

But before long, Aegon felt his knees weakening, and his bottom began to quiver as he tried to hold position. A long, soft sound halfway between a whimper and a moan came out of Aegon's mouth, but he did not cry out. Just when his legs were beginning to tremble, and holding position was about to become too much for Aegon, he felt Jon wrap his arm around his waist, holding him in place. Truthfully, Aegon was glad to have Jon's sturdy frame to lean on. As the scabbard landed repeatedly across Aegon's thighs, he wrapped his arms around Jon's leg, as if clinging for dear life. He let a few silent tears fall as the scabbard ravaged the tender flesh of his thighs.

By the time the strokes stopped, Aegon was limp against Jon's leg, held in place by the strong arm wrapped around his waist. "Stand up," Aegon heard him say, slowly bringing him back to his senses. As Aegon stood up, he couldn't keep his hands from a desperate attempt to rub the sting from his bottom. Jon made no comment.

"You're doing good, but we're only half done here." Aegon knew what was coming, but still his heart plummeted. "Do you remember what I said before we left? If you disobey me, or put yourself in danger…"

"I get the switch," Aegon finished for him. By now, he was resigned to his fate. A switching was a painful ordeal indeed, but he'd survived them in the past. His only real fear was that he would break down and sob like a child again, like he had during his last switching several months back. He had to keep himself from begging for mercy. But his face must have betrayed his fear, because Jon gave him a look of pity.

"You can lie down on the bed for this," Jon said as he set down his scabbard and picked up the switch. Aegon positioned himself on the bed with some relief, diligently arching his back to present his bottom for the switch. His heart fluttered as he felt it tap against his exposed skin. Biting his lip in anticipation, he resisted the urge to clench. A swishing sound cut through the air, giving Aegon some brief warning that his punishment had resumed.

As always, there was that split second of numbness after the stroke before Aegon felt the thin line of pure fire smart across his backside. He caught his cry halfway through his throat. He did his best to keep his bottom well presented, but as the switch continued to fall, his hips would reflexively drop down to the bed, as if retreating from the switch. The strokes would continue to fall, and Aegon would eventually muster the resolve to arch his back and present himself for the onslaught of strokes again.

As this process repeated, Aegon gripped the bed tightly as he tried not to cry out. Tears were beginning to fall, but he managed to keep the sobs at bay. The switch began cutting its way down to his thighs, and Aegon squinted his eyes and contorted his face in pain, feeling tears fall from his eyes as his whole body trembled and shook in its effort to hold still. After raising weals halfway down his thighs, the switch made its journey back upwards. The pain of the strokes falling across the already marked flesh was unbearable.

When he could no longer contain his cries, Aegon bit down hard on the bedsheets. He let a soft, muffled wail out as he pressed his face into the bed, crying silent tears into it. Shaking and trembling, Aegon endured one final barrage of strokes onto his severely marked bottom. Only after all of Aegon's world was reduced to the burning pain in his bottom did he realize that it was finally over.

Aegon felt Jon's hand, rough and callused from decades of training with swords, gently rubbing the weals that crisscrossed his thighs and buttocks. "It's all over now," the knight whispered gently. "You were very brave. I'm proud of you."

Now Aegon could cry. Even as his heart warmed at the praise, he began to shudder and sob, his face still buried in the bedsheets. Aegon continued to sob as Jon rubbed away the sting for some time before finally twisting around to look the man in the face.

"Thank you," the young king said, still blinking away tears. "For everything, I mean. For protecting me all this time. For teaching me how to rule one day." Perhaps his claim to the Seven Kingdoms came from his true father he had never known, but Aegon knew he could never repay this debt to the man who had raised him from infancy.

Jon seemed taken aback. "I swore an oath," he finally managed, as if the display of gratitude made him feel uncomfortable.

Aegon dried his eyes before responding. "I don't imagine most men stand by oaths sworn to dead men from exiled houses." Jon had no response to that.

"You should get some sleep," the knight eventually said. Aegon nodded and slipped out of his shirt. He was about to throw the sheet over his naked body when he saw Jon making his way towards the door of the cabin.

"You're not sleeping?" Aegon was afraid to voice his disappointment. There was only room in the cabin for one bed, and Aegon had been hoping that Jon would join him in it after such a severe punishment. But he didn't know how to explain that he was a man grown, and yet still wanted to be held and comforted after a spanking. Jon turned and walked towards the bed, half smiling.

"I can't sleep until I have news of that infernal Lannister dwarf. You need to get plenty of rest anyway. We'll be in Volantis soon, and then you won't have to hide anymore." Without warning, Jon ran his fingers through Aegon's dyed hair. "We'll have to wash the dye from your hair so they can see the true Targaryen silver. Then you'll look just like your father."

Aegon nodded his agreement, trying to contain the grin from this newfound surge of pride. Jon patted him on the shoulder and walked out of the cabin, closing the door behind him. Alone, Aegon slipped under the bedsheets, reaching back to gingerly touch the angry red weals on his backside. The rough cloth of the bedsheets was scratchy against the soreness. Aegon shifted in bed several times and cried a few more tears before finally drifting off to sleep.

Aegon awoke to the sound of angry shouting outside. He was about to jump out of bed and fumble around searching for his sword in the dark when he recognized Jon's voice. As he continued to listen, Aegon gathered from what he could make out that the dwarf had disappeared without a trace, and none of the others had any luck finding him. Hearing footsteps nearing the door, Aegon turned his head to see Jon barging angrily into the cabin. Only when he saw the boy staring up at him did he seem to remember that he had been asleep.

"I'm sorry about that, it's just those fools managed to lose the dwarf. That bastard could have been useful for us. Tywin Lannister's own blood! He sat on the small council! And now who knows where in the seven hells he could be?"

Aegon didn't respond; he simply let Jon curse and rant as he stripped off his clothes and weapons. Once the old knight had stripped off his clothes, he joined Aegon in the bed, but turned so that they were lying back to back. Aegon was disappointed once again. The two of them lay there in silence before Aegon mustered the courage to speak up.

"Hold me." The words cut through the darkness.

"What?" Jon turned his head, looking over incredulously.

"I said hold me. It's cold tonight." Jon continued to hesitate. "Your king commands it."

Reluctantly, Jon reached his arm around Aegon, moving himself closer to him. But Jon's touch was tentative, and it seemed to Aegon that they were just barely touching in the most torturous way. Impatient, Aegon moved back, pressing himself against the man. Aegon felt Jon's thick leg hair scratching against the weals on his thighs and smiled. The old knight's manhood was stirring; Aegon felt its warmth firmly pressing against his marked bottom, but he didn't mind. As he felt Jon's strong arms tightening around him, Aegon knew he was safe. Soon, Aegon was fast asleep, the fire in his bottom forgotten.


End file.
